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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25099372">Thy Name Is Mine Enemy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pidgeode/pseuds/pidgeode'>pidgeode</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Criminal Minds (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>And like, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, At one point, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gapfill, Gen, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, I don't wanna list them all - Freeform, Magnets, Rated S for Spoilers, Sad Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid Deserves a Hug, William Reid's A+ Parenting Skills, Words, a truckfull, also here's a tag dedicated to hating William Reid, everyone leaves Reid, of sorts, references to episodes, so uh just here, that's the point i guess</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:15:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,498</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25099372</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pidgeode/pseuds/pidgeode</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>His name is Spencer, which means "dispenser of provisions". It doesn't make sense.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>128</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Thy Name Is Mine Enemy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     His father’s name is William, which, when broken into parts, means “gilded helmet”. It doesn’t make sense.</p><p>     Spencer decides that his father’s goal in life must be normalcy, because they’ve all realized by now that Spencer and his mother are not normal. Diana calls it “delicious peculiarity”. William calls it “frustrating abnormality”. Spencer doesn’t know which term he agrees with.</p><p>     He tried baseball, he really did. But more often than not, Spencer found himself sitting on the bleachers, guarding the water cooler. And William tried to help, but eventually he would end up pinching his mouth in...something. Spencer doesn’t know what to call it. Exasperation? Disappointment? A synonym for that.</p><p>     “Did you know that whoever coined the term ‘coined the term’ coined the term?” Spencer says when William gets a cup of water out of pity.</p><p>     “It’s baseball, Spencer,” William sighs, which isn’t much of a reply. “You sure you don’t want to hit one? Not even off a tee?”</p><p>     “I’m actually good here,” Spencer says.</p><p>     William purses his lips again and nods. He sips the water and tosses the paper cup in the dust. Then, he turns around and claps his hand into his mitt, sending dust flying.</p><p>     “Okay, boys!” he shouts. “Round it up, let’s scrimmage before heading home!”</p><p>     He always calls the team his boys. And he calls individual players his son. But Spencer is always Spencer.</p><p>     It’s not sad when William leaves. He must have realized that normalcy is something only he can achieve alone, because suddenly there’s a note on the fridge filled with loose words and empty explanations. Suddenly, Spencer and Diana are alone with their delicious peculiarity. Suddenly, it doesn’t really matter what they call it, because suddenly no one is there to correct them.</p><p>     He’s familiar with magnets, how two polar ends will come together and stick. North and south. Opposites attract. But now Spencer knows that magnetism only works in theory, not in application. If it was real, maybe then the polar opposite would have stayed despite the frustrating abnormality.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>     </p><p>     His mother’s name is Diana, which means “supplier of beneficence and wellness.” It doesn’t make sense.</p><p>     Spencer notices that despite him paying bills, cooking, cleaning, and studying, his mother takes more care of him than he takes care of her. And unlike him, she doesn’t have to try hard. All it takes is a kiss, a sentence, a tuck of hair behind his ear.</p><p>     It is hard, he admits. Spencer works his way through school and into college, gets a PhD, then another. He tells his mother, and every time she wraps her hands around his and pulls him into a hug. People ask him why he does so much, why he’s wasting time on degrees when he could be starting a business. Spencer learns quickly that it’s because he loves to learn, and so does his mother. He’s sucking up enough knowledge for the both of them.</p><p>     Until he isn’t. But that’s his fault.</p><p>     He convinces himself that it was college. Grad school. That’s what made the decision, because Spencer doesn’t want to think about what made him leave her. There was no “breaking point”. It wasn’t “inevitable”. It wasn’t “holding out for a long time”. It wasn’t “the right choice”. He hears all these things from his relatives, but they go in one ear and out the other. There was nothing righteous about this.</p><p>     Here’s what it was: a series of words. He said something and she said something back. He did something and she did not. But then she did something and he did not. But then he did, and now here they were. Now Spencer is having his mother be institutionalized. His parting gift before college. She’s taken away, but it feels like he’s the one walking out. It feels wrong. It feels weak. It feels like William.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>     </p><p>     Gideon’s first name is Jason, which means “healer”. It doesn’t make sense.</p><p>     He meets him while teaching. Spencer is twenty and guest-lecturing, about to leave when Gideon stops him and pulls out a card. Asks him his age, what sort of a life he wants to have. Spencer says yes before asking what it is he’s agreeing to.</p><p>     The first day is three years later and awkward. Spencer feels out-of-place, but Gideon assures him that he’ll find his niche soon enough.</p><p>     He does. For the first time in his life, Spencer doesn’t feel out-of-place. He feels needed, but not like how his mother needed him. This is different. This is strange. And above all, this is wonderful.</p><p>     Until it isn’t.</p><p>     Spencer learns that he has a knack for pushing people away, a talent for making people want to leave.</p><p>     It’s his fault again, it’s always his fault. He gets kidnapped, gets addicted, gets into trouble. Gideon finds him in his apartment and talks him through getting clean. It’s the beginning of the end.</p><p>     Getting clean is painful. The withdrawal causes muscle spasms and chills to wrack Spencer’s body with painful tremors. He has a fever of 103 for two days and barely eats anything. Work is hard. <em> Life </em>is hard. Spencer calls in sick for three days and JJ sends him texts, telling him that she hopes he gets over his flu soon.</p><p>     Gideon comes into his apartment for two hours each day, maybe just for proof of life, which Spencer barely gives him. But then again, Spencer barely gets anything in return. He doesn’t know why he expected Gideon to heal him.</p><p>     It’s like running--there are two types. Spencer feels like a sprinter, but Gideon is long distance. While Spencer eases out of the addiction like a sputtering flame, Gideon stays exactly the same through the withdrawal, pacing himself. His comfort is sincere, albeit robotic. Unsure. He stays in the BAU long enough for Spencer to recover. Then he’s gone, just like that.</p><p>     Maybe he left because of Spencer. But maybe Spencer was the only thing left. </p><p>     There’s a letter on the table, and it’s familiar. Spencer finds himself reading loose words and empty explanations for the second time in his life.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>     His best friend’s name is Jennifer, which means “the fair one”. It doesn’t make sense.</p><p>     They have something more than a friendship, but not exactly a relationship. Spencer’s happy with that. So is JJ. Both of them are content with being there for each other.</p><p>     Until they’re not.</p><p>     He should be used to everyone leaving by now. But somehow, it feels worse this time.</p><p>     She comes back at a price. Because the moment JJ’s with him, Emily leaves. It’s like Spencer isn’t allowed to be with all of his friends at once.</p><p>     Lauren means “sweet of honor”. It doesn’t make sense. </p><p>     There was nothing honorable about this, nothing fair about this. Maybe that’s why Lauren changed her name to Emily--it means “industrious”. And that’s something that makes sense. This whole facade was industrious. Mechanical. It almost felt swept clean of sensitivity and empathy. It was a <em> get-the-job-done </em>job. Necessary, maybe, but painful; so much more painful than withdrawal, than Gideon, than William.</p><p>     Unlike his parents, Will and JJ make magnetism work. Opposites attract--Will’s name, unlike JJ’s, makes sense. “Desirer of peace.” He seems to help Spencer more than JJ during the ten weeks spent beside himself with tears. Maybe it’s because Will is genuine.</p><p>     JJ cries with him and isn’t fair. It isn’t real. Both of them wonder what Emily would do if she were here. Both of them wish she was here. But it’s for different reasons.</p><p>     After Emily comes back, JJ’s relationship with Spencer changes. To what? Friendship, yes. Friendship, no. It’s something. He supposes it always has been something, but that something changes depending on where they stand in time. Homophones.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>     </p><p>     He has a friend named Alex, which means “defender of the people”. It doesn’t make sense.</p><p>     She feels like his mother, but not exactly. Spencer doesn’t know he’s a surrogate until later, but it doesn’t really bother him. He and Alex have an understanding that not even Gideon was able to match.</p><p>     She loves words as much as he does, and it’s not loose or empty. It’s genuine. He tells her about the irony of names and she tells him about the names behind everything. A student-student relationship. More than colleagues, but not just family. Both are holding back that part of themselves.</p><p>     He didn’t really expect her to stay long. Alex isn’t one to surprise anyone, so Spencer is more-or-less prepared when she leaves. But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s his fault.</p><p>     Everything happened all at once: shots. Noise. Light. Nothing. The rest is in flashes and smears. Spencer floats in a bloody, dizzy haze until there’s nothing at all. Someone’s shouting, then whispering. There’s absolute darkness, then absolute light that spills into his eyes like trickling water. The voice finally floods his ears, too.</p><p>     “Hey.” Who’s speaking? Spencer feels his head roll over to the side and regrets it. A shooting pain jolts up his neck and makes his head throb. Why does his neck hurt so much?</p><p>     “Don’t move,” the voice continues. “You’re okay.”</p><p>     Is he? Spencer feels his breathing pick up. He can’t open his eyes.</p><p>     “Spencer,” the voice says, and it’s so calm and slow that Spencer finds himself relaxing a little bit. He’s gaining awareness of his body, and it feels heavy. His hand itches. He moves his other arm to scratch at the tingling on his wrist and instead someone else wraps their hands around his.</p><p>     He opens his eyes halfway, but it doesn’t make much of a difference. There’s color, light. It’s all blurry. He’s tired. Why is he so tired?</p><p>     There are people in the room, he knows. He can feel their eyes on him--two people? It’s hard to focus. Spencer feels himself start to fall back asleep. He doesn’t want to.</p><p>     One of the hands holding his leaves to card through his hair. It feels nice. Spencer forces his eyes to open more and blinks hard.</p><p>     Two people. Blond hair, brown hair. Pink. Black. Smiles and frowns. Eyebrows knitted. Despite the pain in his neck, Spencer moves his head to face the owner of the cold hands.</p><p>     “Hey,” Blake coos, “there you are.”</p><p>     “Gave us a real scare,” the other person--Garcia--pipes up. “Never do that again.”</p><p>     Spencer gives them a drowsy smile. “Promise,” he mumbles, or tries to. His tongue feels numb.</p><p>     “That’ll wear off soon,” Blake says with a small chuckle. She sobers, brow furrowed. “Do you remember what happened?”</p><p>     Spencer swallows thickly. “Shooting,” he slurs. “There was...m’n...you.” He reaches up to touch a swath of something cottony on his neck. “Shot me.”</p><p>     “Yeah,” Garcia says, her voice slightly choked up. “But you’re okay now.”</p><p>     “The sound,” Spencer mumbles, closing his eyes. “Sounded...high. Someone else. It’s...” He trailed off, his brow furrowing as he tried to remember, and Blake leaned forward to brush his bangs out of his eyes.</p><p>     “Sh, it’s okay,” she soothed, “it’s okay. We know.” Her fingers tangle in his hair, stroke his cheek, and her voice is quieter when she says,“Thank you.”</p><p>     “Thank you,” Spencer echoes, though he’s already fading.</p><p>     “Get some sleep.”</p><p>     He does.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>     </p><p>     Derek means “people-ruler”. It doesn’t make sense.</p><p>     There’s nothing royal about Morgan. He’s more dignified than anything, without being arrogant or egotistical. He’s just a <em> good </em> person with the ability to make everyone else feel just as respected. Trusted. Spencer isn’t used to having a friendship with people like Morgan, but somehow it’s one of his most treasured.</p><p>     There’s something different when Morgan leaves, because this time Spencer did everything right. This time, it isn’t his fault; it’s no one’s fault. This time, it’s a good thing that Morgan leaves.</p><p>     Spencer’s supposed to feel happy, but he doesn’t. And he hates himself for it.</p><p>     But then there’s a card in his hand with his name on it, and everything stops.</p><p>
  <em>      Hank Spencer Morgan. </em>
</p><p>     Spencer. <em> Spencer</em>.</p><p>     He calls him up later, and Morgan picks up the phone on the second ring: “<em>So you finally learned how to call on a cell phone?</em>”</p><p>     “Why’d you do it?” Spencer blurts out.</p><p>     “<em>What?</em>”</p><p>     “‘Hank Spencer Morgan’,” Spencer quotes. “Why me?”</p><p>     “<em>Why </em> not <em> you?</em>” Morgan replies. “<em>I meant what I said, kid. You’re my brother.</em>”</p><p>     Spencer swallows, hesitates.</p><p>     “<em>I can hear your brain over the phone, Reid. Spit it out.</em>”</p><p>     After a while, Spencer says: “Did you know that the name ‘Spencer’ means ‘dispenser of provisions’?”</p><p>     “<em>Yeah. Savannah found it in the book. It makes sense.</em>”</p><p>     “...What?”</p><p>     “<em>‘Dispenser of provisions’? Yeah, that’s you, man.</em>”</p><p>     “I don’t really know how I provide.”</p><p>     “<em>Kid, you’re the biggest wealth of information I’ve ever known.</em>”</p><p>     Spencer sighs softly. He doesn’t know why there are tears in his eyes.</p><p>     “<em>...Reid? Still there?</em>” Morgan asks.</p><p>     “I don’t provide,” Spencer mumbles. The phone trembles in his hand. “Everyone I know is gone.”</p><p>     “<em>Not everyone,</em>” Morgan says firmly. “<em>Not me. Not Garcia. The whole team’s here, Reid.</em>”</p><p>     “Not Blake,” Spencer whispers, his voice catching in his throat. “Not Gideon. Or Elle.”</p><p>     “<em>They did not leave because of you.</em>”</p><p>     “The thing is--”</p><p>     “--<em> I don’t want to hear it,</em>” Morgan interrupts. <em> “Listen to me, kid: Gideon made his choice. So did Elle, and so did Blake. You are not responsible, you hear?</em>”</p><p>     “...I hear.” Spencer’s voice is soft now, sniffling. He knows Morgan can hear it over the line.</p><p>     “<em>I named my son Spencer</em>,” Morgan says, “<em>because I want a good kid. A resilient kid, just like you.</em>”</p><p>     Spencer doesn’t reply, just clears his throat around the tears.</p><p>     “<em>So don’t you </em> ever <em> think you’re a problem,</em>” Morgan continues. “<em>Ever. Because you’re not. You’re one of the best men I know, Reid.</em>”</p><p>     A pause, long and uncomfortable.</p><p>     But suddenly, Morgan chuckles, and Spencer holds the phone a little ways from his ear. “What?” he asks, confused.</p><p>     “<em>I also meant what I said about the whole chess thing,</em>” Morgan says. “<em>You still up for that?</em>”</p><p>     Spencer laughs. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m still up for that.”</p><p>     “<em>Good. Now, I gotta go. But keep in touch, will you?</em>”</p><p>     “I will.”</p><p>     “<em>Okay, then. Bye.</em>”</p><p>     “Bye.”</p><p>     The line goes dead, and Spencer is left with something different. He sits down on the couch and slides the phone across the coffee table, away from him.</p><p>     Gideon’s not here. Neither is Alex, Seaver, Elle...the list goes on, all the way back to William. But they were not his fault, and they are not the end. Morgan was right--they're just a phone call, a half-hour drive, a holiday away. He knows that now.</p><p>     Spencer leans back and thinks about who <em> is </em>there, within reach--Garcia, JJ, Emily. Rossi. Luke. Tara. Stephen. Friendship. Trust. Opposites or not, there’s one thing that connects every one of his teammates, and that’s a feeling--a familial feeling, warm and cozy and good.</p><p>     No one can really describe this feeling, but that’s okay; for once, Spencer doesn’t need a name. </p><p>     It makes sense either way.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i'm sorry for making you suffer again, spencer<br/>.....ehhhhhh, maybe.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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